


Bond of Obligation

by GrandRNathaniel



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom!Kharjo, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-10 13:49:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7847536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrandRNathaniel/pseuds/GrandRNathaniel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zezot, the dragonborn, has entered into a marriage with Brelyna Maryon. They are constantly at each others throats, only staying together out of obligation. Zezot seeks comfort from Kharjo the Khajiit. What will come of this dragonborn's story? </p>
<p>- female Dunmer dragonborn -</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nagging Irritation

Zezot arrived at Lakeview Manor, her family’s choice of homestead, dread building in her stomach. There was nothing particularly awful about her arrival home, but it seemed almost useless to her. She knew what was coming, and it was a lot of annoyance. 

 

After dismounting her horse, her housecarl Lydia close behind, she entered her house. 

 

“Mama!” Lucia ran to her, clutching her leg. “You’re home! Did you get me anything?”   


Zezot opened her mouth to reply, but was inevitably cut off by Sofie, “Mama!” she also cried, hugging her mother’s previously free leg. “Could I have some gold to spend at the market?”   


A bit overwhelmed, Zezot gently pulled the children off of herself. “Relax. I can’t speak to you both at once, now, can I?” She turned to Sofie, dropping ten gold into her tiny hands.  


“Wow, thanks!”   


She then turned to Lucia and took a small dagger out of her bag. “Here you go.”   


“You’re the best!” 

 

With that out of the way, Zezot stopped by a chest in the main hall of the house, unloading some of her heaviest items from her journey. With her pack lighter, and more manageable, she sat at the long dining table, munching on the bread that was already there staring at her from within a basket. She had barely started her second piece when she heard a sound that grated against her ears in the worst way possible, worse than the dragons that roared from above as they descended upon her, worse than being shouted at by Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, worse than anything she’d encountered in her journeys. 

 

“At least something good came out of that trip to Saarthal,” Brelyna spoke from behind Zezot. “I didn’t find anything but dust.”  


Zezot tried not to make it too obvious that she was grinding her teeth. “I know.”   


“You feeling all right? You look a little sick.”  


“I’m fine,” Zezot sighed, standing from the table. “I need to rest.”   


Brelyna bit her lip, but allowed her wife to move past her and into their room, deciding to bring it up later.

 

\---------------

 

Once lying down, Zezot knew she couldn’t sleep. She had too much on her mind to even think about resting. Hell, it was even hard to stay still while lying on the bed, but she knew that if she got up or made it apparent that she was awake, she’d just be talked to nonstop. She stayed still and waited for everyone else to sleep, trying to ignore that Lydia was standing at the foot of the bed. 

 

Zezot was still awake by the time she heard the children settle down, but she dared not move. She knew it wouldn’t be long until Brelyna lied down beside her. She knew that Brelyna would lie down, careful not to disturb Zezot and she would turn on her side, facing away from her wife, and in five short minutes she would be asleep.   


Those five minutes felt longer than they had in a long time, but eventually Zezot rolled out of bed as gracefully as she could, still wearing her Nightingale armor. Lydia was now sitting in a chair at the foot of the bed.   


Zezot didn’t need to give Lydia directions, she knew to follow as her thane snuck out of the room and past Sceolang, who lied on the floor in a furry heap, and out the front door. 

 

She breathed a sigh of relief once out in the open. “Thank Nocturnal,” she chuckled. “If Brelyna had woken up, I would have had an earful.”   


“My thane, are you sure you’re… happy?” Lydia asked, looking a bit uncomfortable.  


“What?”  


“Well, it’s just that you don’t stay home long, and when you do the two of you argue rather fiercely.”  


Zezot stared at Lydia for a long moment, her eyebrows pulling together. “I guess I’m not happy. I’m the Dragonborn, I don’t need to be happy. I need to defeat Alduin.”  


Lydia frowned, but dared not question her thane at the moment. 

 

“Alduin?” Brelyna’s voice snapped from behind them, causing them both to jump. “That’s what you care about? What about our family?”  


“I never wanted to raise children, Brelyna. You know that.” Zezot kept her tone even.  


“You haven’t raised them,” Brelyna almost growled, striding up to Zezot to glare up at her. “You’re always out on your silly adventures, exploring meaningless caves, and fighting horrible monsters! You don’t help out around her at all and you don’t even care if you don’t come home.”  


“ _ I’m the Dragonborn, _ ” Zezot shouted. “I am not on ‘silly adventures’. I’m trying to stop the entire world from ending! From being eaten by Alduin. Unless you’ve completely forgotten about who I am entirely.” Zezot put her finger to her chin, and then threw her arms up in the air theatrically. “Oh wait! I forgot! You don’t know anything about me, Brelyna. We didn’t even get to know each other before we started dating, and we were too young to decide what we wanted, but you wanted to get married and have kids. And I was stupid doing what you wanted.”   


Brelyna looked less angry now, still angry, but more sad. “I thought we were in love,” she spat. “I cared for you.”  


Zezot’s expression was cruel and angry. “You cared for the sex and who  _ you wanted  _ me to be.” 

 

With that, Zezot turned, mounted her horse, and left. Lydia followed behind loyally, but awkwardly.   


Lydia didn’t know where they were going, but Zezot did. She was hunting a caravan.


	2. Comfort in a Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kharjo is someone Zezot doesn't have to be careful around. She likes that in a person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if parts of this are paced weirdly

It took a long time to find the caravan she was looking for, but Zezot found it parked right outside Dawnstar. This city had always bothered her, but not for any logical reasons that she knew of.

 

Zezot shuddered, both from the city and the blistering cold, and turned to walk toward the caravan. It wasn’t difficult for her to spot the lightest part of Kharjo’s face fur, glowing under the moonlight. His fur blowed in the slight breeze and his fur puffed up against the cold, sticking out from his armor.

 

“Wait here,” she told Lydia, barely glancing over her shoulder as she walked up to the caravan.

“Kharjo,” she grabbed his shoulder from behind in greeting.

Kharjo turned, his ears back, but they perked at the sight of Zezot. He smiled and his eyes softened, “These sands are cold, but Khajiit feels warmness from your presence.” His smile faltered a little, noticing the troubles darkening Zezot’s eyes. “Troubles at home, friend?”

“The usual,” Zezot muttered, grabbing Kharjo by the front of his armor, and leading him toward Dawnstar.

Kharjo swallowed roughly, letting himself be dragged toward the Windpeak Inn. “You are taking us somewhere warm, I trust?”

“You have no idea.”

Those words themselves sent a flood of warmth through him, all the way to the tip of his tail, lingering in his stomach for a bit longer than he expected. The cold vanished as they entered the warm, mead-filled inn. Zezot led Kharjo past the front desk, dropping gold on the counter as she swept past the innkeeper and into their room.

 

\-----

 

She threw Kharjo against the wall, closing the door with her foot. His breath was hot in her ear as she left bite marks along his neck (which was difficult through his fur), his breath hitching with every bite. She felt his skin break under her teeth, but she knew that she didn’t have to be careful with him.

They knew each other by this point.

 

Kharjo let out little purring sounds as her hands trailed down to roughly grab at him. Her other hand ran over his ears, tugging on them every so often as she moved to trap his mouth with hers. She silenced his cries as she began working his member. Her tongue caught his and they more or less fought for control of their mouths; it wasn’t much of a competition seeing as how Zezot was in control from the beginning and Kharjo didn’t seem to have the desire to actually win.

 

Zezot removed her hand from between his legs, causing him to whimper, to strip him of his armor. It fell to the floor with a heavy, unpleasant, clanking sound. Underneath the armor, were lots of muscles that he’d earned guarding the caravan. If someone didn’t know they were there already, they could have been easily lost in his heavy winter fur. Once his clothes were on the floor, she quickly removed her own, less heavy armor. She threw her clothes into the same pile as Kharjo’s, quickly paying attention to his obviously aching erection.

 

“You’re so eager,” Zezot observed, tracing her finger over the tip, causing Kharjo to hiss quietly.

“Khajiit likes what you do,” he responded through gritted teeth, letting his head fall back against the wall.

Zezot smirked, grabbing his dick and mercilessly jerking her hand up and down. She enjoyed the helpless mewling coming from deep within Kharjo’s throat as he was handled much too roughly, and yet, not roughly enough. She couldn’t even tell if he wanted her to stop, or if he wanted more.

“You like that?” she asked, staring him in the eyes, though he didn’t make much eye-contact since he could hardly keep his eyes open.

“Mm,” he attempted a response, but ended up having to nod instead, his face flushed and his fur prickling.

 

Suddenly cutting off contact with Kharjo, the dunmer reached for her bag. She dug around for a bit before locating a long metal rod with leather straps attached to it. Kharjo was rutting against her leg, desperate for any sort of contact. His eyes widened at the object.

“What is _that_ for?”

“What do you think?” She stepped into the strapped, pulling it up so that the metal rod rested against her crotch, rubbing a bit. “You didn’t think I’d leave you wanting more this time; did you?”

Kharjo felt his words get stuck in his throat. He could only imagine what Zezot could do to him now. He wondered how she came upon such an object, but decided that subject could wait.

 

In a flurry of fur, and teeth, and claws, and nails they were on the bed, the Zezot pinning the Khajiit almost effortlessly, her muscles rolling beneath her skin. She was positioned behind her mate, rubbing his entrance with a lubricant she had made in her own alchemy lab. She inserted a finger into him, using it to pump in and out, stretching his eager ass. He arched into her, pushing back to try to get as much into himself as possible. She held him back.

 

“Not so fast now, pet,” she murmured. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“This Khajiit does not care,” Kharjo practically growled.

 

That was all that Zezot needed to hear to send her over the edge. She inserted another finger into him promptly, and then another, and began moving them in scissor-like motions, stretching him effortlessly. She spent no more time than was necessary with this, and lined up her cold, metal member with his hole that was open readily for her. Gripping his hip with one hand, and his tail in the other, she thrusted into him.

 

She pulled him into her in time with her thrusting, impaling him on her member. It must have reached further than she thought it would, because Kharjo was yowling with a mixture of ecstasy and agony. He was slack in Zezot’s hands, allowing her to pound into him over and over again. She kept his tail in-hand, pulling on it to elicit some of the most pleasing sounds from Kharjo’s mouth.

 

Kharjo was _loud._ If the entire inn couldn’t hear him, Zezot would be very surprised.

“You’re being quite the slut, don’t you think?” she teased him. “The entire inn is going to know just how much you like being fucked by the Dragonborn.”

Kharjo did not respond to this. He didn’t think he could if he’d wanted to - he was too far gone.

 

It wasn’t long before Kharjo lost it completely, spilling his load all over their rented bed. He collapsed, but Zezot rolled him over, tossing her member aside.

“It’s my turn,” she stated bluntly, sitting above his face.

He eagerly lapped at her own opening, leaving no spot untouched by his scratchy tongue. She thrusted against his mouth, unable to keep herself from trying to face-fuck him. She grabbed his head, her fingers grabbing at his fur, and pressed his face into her more as she thrusted and rolled her hips against his mouth.

 

His tongue scraping against her clitorus and down into her hole was an overwhelming sensation, and before she knew it, she was riding out an orgasm against Kharjo’s mouth, pushing his face into herself with more force than before. Her thrusts were slower than before, and it was only a few moments before she removed herself from Kharjo.

 

They threw the dirtied bedding off of the bed, and lied down together.

 

“Where did you get that? Kharjo must know,” he asked, his eyes full of curiosity and exhaustion.

“I smithed it myself,” Zezot answered through a yawn. She threw an arm over him and was almost asleep.

“Can you make more?”

“Count on it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Reviews and critiques are very welcome as this is my first published fanfiction! - 
> 
> I am currently accepting emergency commissions on my art blog (where I will also be posting more fanfiction), so it would mean a lot to me if you checked it out
> 
> http://nates-art-fart.tumblr.com/


	3. Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse into Zezot's and Brelyna's past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this one is a bit shorter than the others

_ “Zezot,” Brelyna moaned, arching her back as her newfound lover drilled into her with her fingers.  _

_ Zezot did not respond, picking up her pace instead. Brelyna let another moan escape her lips, louder this time. “Shh, you’re going to get us caught,” Zezot whispered into the younger dark elf’s ear, causing her to shiver.  _

 

_ They were in the arcanaeum, Brelyna pushed up against a bookshelf, just out of sight of Urag gro-Shub, the librarian. They still had dust on them from their trip to Saarthal, but they had been in too much of a hurry to cleanse themselves.  _

 

_ Zezot may have been pumping Brelyna’s hole with three fingers, but the other hand was twisting at a nipple, biting it just hard enough to make her partner whine a little. Brelyna, in turn, was kissing and sucking at Zezot’s skin; it had started at the neck, but now she was just paying attention to any skin in front of her.  _

 

_ “More,” Brelyna choked out, pressing back into Zezot’s fingers needily.  _

_ “Shut up.” _

_ “Zezot,” Brelyna whined, no doubt catching the attention of someone in the arcanaeum.  _

 

_ Zezot added her pinky into Brelyna, who moaned lowly, increasing her force. Within three minutes of vigorous thrusting, Brelyna had squirted out liquid all over Zezot’s hand, causing it to drip down her right arm.  _

 

_ Brelyna’s face was flushed, and she was falling to the ground, so Zezot let her, and took her place against the bookshelf, dropping her own pants. The smaller of the two, looked up at her eagerly and quickly began lapping at Zezot’s wetness. Zezot bit her lip to keep herself from groaning with pleasure, and kept her eyes on Brelyna, enjoying the view of her looking up at her while she licked and sucked. _

 

_ Her tongue went up and down Zezot’s lips, tracing the shape perfectly. She ventured to her hole, circling it a few times before letting the tip of her tongue venture inside, though she did not leave it there for long. Moving to the clitorus, Brelyna took it into her mouth, sucking hard on it while simultaneously licking it.  _

 

_ Zezot shook, pushing Brelyna’s head harder into her crotch. The sensations were too much, and without much of a pause, the Dragonborn had let out against Brelyna’s mouth.  _

 

_ Brelyna pulled away, licking her lips before wiping her mouth on her robes. “I love you.”  _

_ Zezot smiled, pulling her pants back up. “Love you too.”  _

 

\---------

 

Zezot woke up slowly, removing her arm from around Kharjo to sit up. She had a horrible feeling in her stomach. Guilt. 

 

She was always guilty after a night with Kharjo, though she was pretty sure she didn’t need to be. Brelyna already knew, she figured, and had probably gotten over it. This was where she came every time they fought for quite a while. Surely, Brelyna must at least suspect that she’s been cheating.

 

After a mild attempt at convincing herself of that, she stood from their bed to get dressed. 

 

“Leaving so soon?” Kharjo asked sleepily, rolling over to face his mate, his eyes only half open. 

“Yes,” she admitted with a small, apologetic smile. “Sorry; I need to continue my journey and defeat Alduin.”

“This Khajiit understands.” 


	4. Ulfric Asscloak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zezot and Lydia take a trip to Windhelm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Valieth is not my character*  
> She is my datemate's character that I got permission to mention

Zezot left her room in the inn, finding Lydia in the main hall, eating. They shared their meal before heading out. 

 

“Where are we off to, my thane?”

“I’ve heard of murders in Windhelm, and as much as I loathe that city, I feel I should take it in with my own senses.” 

Lydia nodded, preparing Zezot’s horse for the journey. “Ulfric Stormcloak lives there,” she said. “He’s quite the nord.” 

“For divines’ sake, Lydia; you don’t have a crush on the man, do you?” Zezot raised an eyebrow. 

Lydia looked as if she were going to laugh, but then attempted to neutralize her expression. “No, my thane; I have feelings for another. Valieth, an altmer who has the title thane of Riften.” 

Zezo held back her grin, and mounted her horse. “I wish you both happiness. If you ever need to leave my service, I understand.” 

“Thank you, my thane.” 

 

\---------------

 

The journey to Windhelm was long and hard, the snow whipping at their faces angrily, much like the people living in the area. 

Zezot had only been to this city once before, and it was brief; only long enough to purchase a horse from the stables outside of it’s walls. She was grateful that she hadn’t stepped foot inside of the horridly racist city. 

 

Immediately upon entering the gates of the city, Zezot witnessed a fellow dunmer being harassed by a nord man and his friend. She wasn’t certain about what he was saying, but she could tell the sentences were threats and very offensive. 

 

“Lydia.” 

The housecarl didn’t need to hear anything further, she nodded and walked up to the man and his friend and grabbed his friend by the shirt. “You call yourself a nord?” she questioned. “A nord would have some honor.”

“You better get out of here before you wish you had,” Zezot hissed, pushing the man Lydia wasn’t grabbing out of the way. She walked past him as he stumbled backward and then fell as Lydia tossed his friend into him. 

 

After speaking to several dunmer in Candlehearth Hall, Zezot decided that as the dragonborn, a very important figure, she had to take it upon herself to speak to Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak on behalf of the dark elf people living in his hold. 

 

She knew she’d regret her decision the moment she entered the Palace of Kings to hear Ulfric and Galmar speaking very loudly about Balgruuf the Greater. Galmar suggested they shove a sword through his gullet; Ulfric stated that it would make a better point to take his city and leave him disgraced. 

 

Zezot hated them both. 

 

She cleared her throat as she walked up to them, but neither of them even spared her a glance. This was a bit unusual since it had become more well-known that she was the dragonborn. 

“Excuse me,” she finally started from behind Ulfric. He turned, an annoyed expression on his face. 

“You should talk to Galmar. He can decide how you’ll be of use to me.”

“I am  _ not _ here to take part in your ridiculous war,” Zezot said, exasperated. “I am here to help the people of your city. The nords are harassing the dark elves and it seems nothing has been down about it.”

Ulfric scoffed. “Have you  _ elves  _ not gotten the hint that I have more important matters at hand, like a war?”

Zezot raised her eyebrows, completely astonished that a Jarl claiming to be the leader of a rebellion for freedom could be this much of a racist asshole. Ulfric turned back around, resuming his conversation with Galmar. 

 

_ Zun Haal Viik! _

 

The expression on Ulfric’s face as his sword flew from his waist and clattered to the floor was delicious. He turned on the dragonborn, obviously offended. 

 

“You dare shout at the true High King?!” Galmar shouted, drawing his weapon. 

Ulfric extended his arm, barring Galmar from striking Zezot, which wouldn’t have worked anyway, because Lydia had already stepped in front of her with her own weapon drawn. 

“Dragonborn?” Ulfric asked, sounding vaguely disgusted. 

“Yes.”

A voice spoke from behind them, “But she’s not a nord… Can she even be the dragonborn?”

“Yeah, and the dragonborn can’t be a woman; right?” a voice accompanied the first. 

Zezot, hearing this quite often as she was both a woman and a dunmer, sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Well, are you going to help your people, or not?” 

“Even if you are the dragonborn, that doesn’t change that I am fighting a war for my people,” Ulfric bellowed, going into speech mode, which he seemed to be quite fond of given how often he gave speeches. 

“You’re right,” Zezot decided, shrugging. “Sorry to bother you,  _ Oh Great Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak _ .”

Ulfric did not respond, turning to speak to Galmar again about war tactics. 

 

_ Stupid nord,  _ Zezot thought.

 

Once she was fairly sure that Ulfric wouldn’t notice her, she began shoving food from his table into her bag. She made sure to leave no crumb unstolen, even going so far as to take the plates, platters, and goblets. When she had taken everything from the surrounding tables, she snuck up to Ulfric himself, reaching into his pocket to find… Nothing. The “True High King of Skyrim” had nothing in his pockets. No gold, no jewelry; nothing. 

 

“Let’s move out,” Zezot spoke to Lydia as she made for the door. 

 

\------------------

 

“Will you carry this?” Zezot approached Lydia, holding her bag open. 

Lydia made a face, terrified of holding stolen goods from the Hall of Kings. “... I am sworn to carry your burdens,” she finally managed. 

Lydia took most of the items in the bag and they headed off, not wanting to linger in this murder-filled city any longer. 

“Where are we headed, my thane?”

“I’m not sure…” She thought her options over, none of them sounding quite right. “Perhaps home, actually.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I did not proof-read this very much, but I will soon; if I made any awful mistakes, please let me know

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading ^^ 
> 
> I would really appreciate any reviews and/or critiques on this as it is my first published fanfiction


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